M. WEINBERG Cello Sonatas: No. 1 in C; No. 2 in g. Solo Cello Sonata No. 1 in C • Alexander Chaushian (vc); Yevgeny Sudbin (pn) • BIS 1648 (55:45)


After a decade’s hiatus—the British label Olympia embarked on a project back in the 1990s to record anew and/or remaster from earlier Melodiya LPs much of the composer’s output—there seems to be a resurgence of interest in the music of Polish-born Mieczys?aw Weinberg, (aka Moisey Samuilovich Vaynberg) 1919–1996. That this interest now extends to a mainstream label such as BIS is encouraging, for Weinberg is considered by many to be the most important Soviet era composer to follow in the musical footsteps of Shostakovich. Though Weinberg never formally studied with him, the elder Shostakovich befriended the young man, encouraged him to move to Moscow in 1943 after the Jewish Weinberg had lost almost his entire family in the Holocaust, and interceded on his behalf when Weinberg was arrested and detained as part of Stalin’s anti-Semitic dragnets.


Despite the friendship that bonded the two men, Weinberg’s music nods respectfully at Shostakovich’s, but does not unconditionally embrace it. His catalog of works is extensive—22 symphonies, 17 string quartets, large quantities of chamber works for various combinations of instruments, solo piano pieces, and seven operas. With due gratitude to Olympia for its efforts on Weinberg’s behalf, the label’s titles seem to have disappeared from the current listings; thus, this major composer’s works are ripe for new recordings. Chandos, for one, appears to have heeded the call with new recordings of the symphonies.


Even though the connections are at times tenuous, I can say that if you appreciate Shostakovich you will respond positively to Weinberg. Not all assessments of Weinberg’s music though, have been positive. Cellist Alexander Ivashkin, for whom Schnittke wrote a number of works, has been most critical, arguing that composers such as Weinberg damaged not only their own reputations, but also that of Shostakovich himself, stating that “these works only served to kill off Shostakovich’s music, to cover it over with a scab of numerous and bad copies.”


I disagree. Clearly, the life experiences of both composers led them to dark and devastating places in their music, and often to programmatic content of mindless violence and the terrible human suffering it produced. But where Shostakovich mocks and satirizes the ugliness and deformities by painting them with a twisted, defaced mask of cheap, tawdry face-rouge, Weinberg seems to have less of a taste for the sarcastic and the sardonic. Lyudmilla Nikitina in Grove finds influences in Weinberg’s music of Bartók, Myaskovsky, Prokofiev, and even Mahler, and emphasizes the “neo-classical, rationalist clarity and proportion of his works.” Then too, ethnic influences of Jewish, Polish, Armenian, Moldavian, and klezmer music are also part of the picture.


The recording of Cello Sonata No. 1 appears to be, at this time, the only one available of this work. Happily, it’s a superb one. [The other two can be found separately on Hanssler and Albany.] Cellist Alexander Chaushian distinguishes himself in all three, but really shines in the technically daunting solo sonata, a work that manages to satisfy and reward as both a virtuosic display piece and a profoundly moving piece of music. Pianist Yevgeny Sudbin has been making a splash of late with his recent recordings of Scriabin, Medtner, and Tchaikovsky. It’s easy to hear why from his playing here. He has fingers of steel guided by the caressing touch of an angel.


An outstanding release and a must-add to your collection. Incidentally, due to the number of disparate transliterations and spellings of Weinberg’s name, you will find him listed at arkivmusic.com as Moisey Samuil Vaynberg. It would be helpful if record producers and annotators came up with a consensus spelling.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Emilie Mayer's works bear witness to an indomitable personality, despite having languished for so long in the shadow of her male peers. The musicians of the Akademie fur Alte Musik Berlin have resolved to do her justice with this revelatory symphonic triptych of recordings. They begin with two of her most remarkable works played on period instruments, including a wondrous Bluthner piano handpicked by the soloist here, Alexander Melnikov.

Brtish pianist Alexander Ullman, presents a program of Edvard Grieg's Moods, Songs and Lyric Pieces. The prize of the album, Alexander's own transcriptions of music from the Peer Gynt Suite No.1, which draws out the color of the orchestra from the piano, perhaps more than the composer's own. Like Chopin, Grieg was more comfortable creating exquisite miniatures rather than large scale orchestral works. Both produced concertos for the piano, and Grieg's example is one of the most popular in the repertoire, but it is in his small-scale solo works that his poetic musical expression had free reign. Alexander Ullman plays Book 10, Moods, and seven pieces from 1907, probably the last music Grieg composed. The program also includes a selection of songs arranged by the composer for solo piano.

HARMONIA MUNDI - Stravinsky: The Soldiers Tale (English Version) - Isabelle Faust / Alexander Melnikov / Dominique Horwitz, Isabelle Faust, Lorenzo Coppola, Javier Zafra, Reinhold Friedrich, J�rgen van Rijen, Wies de Boeve, Raymond Curfs 2021 release.

This fourth and last volume devoted to Mozart's Violin and Piano Sonatas is a virtual journey of initiation, from his light-filled Palatine Sonatas to the later, more intense and complex Viennese masterworks, with Mozart completely revitalizing the genre and opening up new aesthetic horizons.

"[This collection] shows Richard Stoltzman, with his succulent tone and infectious bravura (so easily displayed in the finale of the Weber and the very operatic Rossini Variations), at his best...One tends to think of Weber's concertos as being rather more than halfway between the classical and romantic traditions, here the romanticism is very much in the ascendent. But overall the performance of the F minor Concerto combines a lively impetus in the outer movements with warmth in the Adagio whilst the orchestra—notably the horns—add much to the listener's enjoyment."

-- Ivan March, Gramophone [10/1989]

A while ago, when commenting on Michael Nyman's "The Piano," I spoke (or pontificated, rather) to some colleagues regarding my dismay over Nyman's 'art.' I mention guilty pleasures on occasion, but a greater potential irrationality of criticism is the personal determination of whether one should praise certain scores or composers for daring to be abstract, or lambaste them for not getting their points across. I have done both, with disliked emphasis on the latter, when listening to Nyman's compositions. It is with "The End of the Affair," performed by the Michael Nyman Orchestra, that I realize I ought to place my views firmly, diplomatically in the middle.

The music really depends on how the listener feels, as opposed to being the sort of film score that alters how he feels. Reliant on the mood and the focus of attention, the score delights as confidently as it bores. It stands precariously on the divide between art and self-importance. Its incessant, top heavy strings play ad nauseam -- will they never end? -- but the themes they play indulge in the attention. It is exceedingly predictable, just as a fair deal of minimalist music is. And compared to the film scores of minimalist Philip Glass it is neither technically brilliant nor dramatically solid. It is challenging primarily to the amplitude of one's attempt to fall in love with its tedium. Cinematic evolution gets thrown out of the window for a beginning, middle, and end that are practically unidentifiable from one another. As I am not a huge supporter of the minimalist music movement I may be missing some key thought, others may see this score far differently, but to my ears it reaches a point of despotic annoyance. Call me unfashionable. Yet I cannot help praising "The End of the Affair" for its abstract grandeur. The scope, though minimal, gets the most out of the repeating elements, and the cues, taken individually as small concert works rather than part of a theatrical whole, become fascinating essays in contemporary classical music. Nyman has an unconventional way with counterpoint (and lack thereof) that is lush and thoroughly amazing, and the themes are memorable and inhabit the soundscape aggressively well. When these ideas stick out from the common backdrop, it is mesmerizing.

What fascinates me most personally is that this is one of the few soundtracks I know of featuring such a strong dichotomy... I am not sure I appreciate it...

-- Jeffrey Wheeler, MusicWeb International

This is not a particularly generous collection: it was originally published in 1983 but never previously issued in the UK. It shows Richard Stoltzman, with his succulent tone and infectious bravura (so easily displayed in the finale of the Weber and the very operatic Rossini Variations), at his best, while the Mozart Andante, if it is to be transcribed for clarinet, needs a lighter touch: here the rich, rather deliberate phrasing loses the music's simplicity and charm. In the Weber the orchestral tuttis are somewhat hefty for a group called the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra, but this is primarily the effect of the resonant acoustics of the unnamed hall where the recording was made. One tends to think of Weber's concertos as being rather more than halfway between the classical and romantic traditions; here the romanticism is very much in the ascendent. But overall the performance of the F minor Concerto combines a lively impetus in the outer movements with warmth in the Adagio whilst the orchestra—notably the horns—add much to the listener's enjoyment.

-- Ivan March, Gramophone [10/1989, reviewing RCA 60035]